Fate
by sherlockisintheTARDIS
Summary: The year is 2067. Three kids are living in the middle of Washington D.C. by themselves. One day they all begin receiving mysterious notes. But there's something wrong with the notes... Horrible things are happening wherever the three go. Are the notes a coincidence, or is a fate playing a bigger part in their lives than they thought? A/N: This will be an ongoing story.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

The Older One

Ironically, the fire escape was one of the only parts of the half-burned building that was still intact. Liam threw his backpack up onto the landing above him, wincing reflexively at the resounding clang before remembering that anyone within earshot was most likely either asleep, knocked out, or too drunk to care.

He swung up onto the lowest horizontal rung and boosted himself up to the next landing with a jump and a push off a crumbling brick in the wall. The place used to be an apartment, but had burned down about three years ago due to a lit cigarette in the trashcan. His apartment and a few others on the third floor were the only ones left. Not that anyone knew they lived there, of course.

Liam's backpack was lying sideways on the metal landing, so he scooped it up and then knocked on the only unbroken window on this side of the wall. Two knocks, pause, two knocks, pause, three knocks, pause, one knock. A slab of wood was pushed aside and a girl's annoyed face appeared in the gap, then a hand as she slid the bolt aside and shoved the window open.

Liam ducked inside and tried an ingratiating smile. His sister rolled her eyes and stomped back to the tiny kitchen corner where a pot of water was boiling over a gas burning stove. The apartment had lost electricity when the building burned a couple of years ago, but they found ways to work it out, with matches and candles.

"Jeez Liam, I've been worried sick about you! Where the hell _were_ you," his sister shot over her shoulder.

Frisbee, their huge German Sheppard, bounded over to Liam and began to lick his face, so he crouched to pet the dog. "Hey now, Al! Can't have my little sister cursing like that! Reflects badly on my reputation, you know." Liam grinned, having tactfully avoided the question.

Alice snorted and turned from the stove, her arms crossed. "Little? That's a bit sexist. We don't even know who was born first, but there you go assuming that _you're_ older. Typical…" Her voice receded into muttering as she stirred the pasta, one hand still folded on her hip. Liam looked up from scratching Frisbee's ears. It was hard to see with the room lit by only one dim streetlight, but he could have sworn there was a bit of a smile playing around Alice's mouth. He walked over to the kitchen and pulled two cracked plates from a cabinet, setting them lightly on the counter.

Although Liam was an inch or two taller than Alice, it was true that it was impossible to tell whether he or his twin sister was older. It was also true that he liked to think he was. They both had the same wavy brown hair, the same green-gray eyes, the same smattering of freckles across the same small, round nose.

"So, where were you really today," Alice challenged as she poured the steaming water from the pasta into a bucket for washing their hands, then dumped half the pasta onto each of their plates.

Liam avoided the question again as he poured some half-stale dog food into a bowl for Frisbee. "Sorry, buddy," he said, but the dog did not seem to care. As long as he could eat, he was happy.

Alice had her arms crossed again. "Well?"

Liam let out a sigh. "Fine. I was at the museum," he grumbled at last. "Happy?"

Alice groaned. "Liam, come on! You of all people! Do you even remember what happened last time?"

"Yeah, I do, Al. Thanks for reminding me," he said shortly.

Alice's expression softened. "Sorry. It's just… You know." Liam did not need to be reminded about the last time he had tried to pickpocket outside the Washington Museum of Natural History. He had stolen a woman's purse, run smack into a police officer, and would probably have spent who knows how long in some juvy-foster-home if Alice hadn't "accidentally" caused a slight diversion by knocking over a hot dog stand down the street.

Not his best work, although he had to congratulate Alice for quick thinking. Since then- or perhaps it had had always been, he just didn't notice before- Liam had observed more and more police officers around and in the museum. On the news, they had said crime was really picking up, and museums were being robbed left and right. Huh. Imagine that.

The rest of dinner was spent in silence. Liam washed the dishes and Alice dried them and left them on the counter for tomorrow. It was only after they had poured water into a bowl for Frisbee, changed into pajamas, and flopped down to go to sleep (Liam on the sagging couch, Alice on the rickety old cot) that they spoke.

"Liam?"

"Yeah?" said Liam.

"Just… be careful, 'kay?"

"Oh, now who's acting like the older one," Liam retorted indignantly, but he was smiling.

"Promise?" Alice said softly.

"Yeah." Liam nodded in the darkness. "I promise."

"Okay. Good night, Liam."

"Night, Al."

They fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

The Birthday of a Pig

When Dion woke that morning his back was aching, and not just the usual cramp of sleeping on a hard wooden bench. He must have fallen asleep really late last night, because he woke lying with his legs on the bench and the rest of his body off, leaving his head hanging halfway to the ground and his back stretched at an uncomfortable angle.

He took a good part of ten minutes straightening himself out, then scrambled up from the ground and knelt down by the small bag that he carried with him everywhere. He had slept in his clothes (a pair of old baggy jeans, a faded tee-shirt, and a pair of sneakers ripping at the seams) so he could be ready to go if he needed to move fast. He didn't need to today, though, so he took his time splashing water from a plastic bottle over his hands and face.

Today was special, or as special as any day in his life could get. His birthday. Dion thought about going out and "buying" (stealing, really, although he didn't like to think of it that way) something for this special occasion, but that could end up with a run-in with the police, and that was the last thing he wanted.

Ever since his uncle had disappeared and Dion had left home, he had tried to stay out of the police's way as much as possible. He didn't think they'd associate him with his uncle's disappearance, but he _was_ living outside a museum, stealing food and money from tourists, and he was pretty sure they could press charges on something like that.

Dion hadn't had the most fortunate 14 years of life so far. He was born in Africa, although he couldn't remember much of it. When he was 6, his mother and his brother died. Dion had moved to Washington D.C. to live with his uncle, which had been fine, if a little uncomfortable because of the shortness of food and money, until a week before his 11th birthday.

When Dion woke up that morning, his uncle was gone. No note, no indication of where he had gone at all. Not that this was unusual, but he usually came back for dinner. This time, Dion waited three days before conceding defeat. There was never even a call, and he still imagined the worst. He was worried at first, but he got a hold of himself and the next day, he left the house. He took some money from the drawer in the kitchen, and he left a note for his uncle, just in case he came back. To the best of Dion's knowledge, he never did.

A snort from a few feet away pulled him from his thoughts. Dion grinned and walked over to the source of the noise. His pig,Constant, had just woken up from yet another nap. He had found Constanton the day of his 11th birthday, finally taking the pig into care after he had followed him around everywhere for a few days. They had both needed someone to take of them, it seemed.

Dion had decided to name him Constant because of that. So today had two anniversaries, one of a fourteenth birthday and one of a pig. Dion sighed and fastened a bright red leash to Constant's collar. Yes, today most definitely called for something special. Time to go shopping.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Loss of $20

When Alice woke the next morning, Liam wasn't there, but there was a note from him on the kitchen counter.

Alice: Took $5. See you for dinner! –Liam

Alice read the note as she poured herself a bowl of stale cereal and some milk. He better not go to the museum. She ate the cereal quickly, and then changed out of her pajamas into a t-shirt, jeans, a baggy sweatshirt, and a pair of old sneakers. Walking around the city alone, it was best to look as little like a girl as possible.

Alice pulled her hair back into a bun and examined her reflection in the cracked window. It wasn't perfect, but it would have to do. She swung a bag over her shoulder, climbed out the window, and closed it carefully behind her.

She boarded a subway halfway down H Street and took it to 17th, using a Metro pass from a bored looking middle-aged man in a suit who suddenly realized he didn't have his pass right outside the ticket barrier. Alice slipped away down the elevator and boarded the subway, noting that now the man didn't look quite so bored.

On 17th street she rode the elevator up to street level where rush hour was in full swing, and hung around the station to pinch a few dollars here and there. When she had enough to buy herself breakfast she crossed the street to Panera and bought a bagel and coffee.

It wasn't that she liked stealing, she reflected a half an hour later as she pushed open the door to go back out into the cool, mid-October air and the cacophony of people yelling into their cell phones, horns honking, and music blaring out of car windows. It was just that she had to, to get food and clothes and dishes and all the other things you may need when you're a fourteen-year-old living in an abandoned apartment with your brother and large German Sheppard. She only half-enjoyed it when people deserved what they got.

Like this woman here, she thought. The woman was clomping across the street in four-inch heels, a pantsuit, and a huge black purse, and was yelling into her earpiece. And hanging out of her half-zipped purse was a crisp twenty-dollar bill.

Now, Alice reasoned, who would be walking around the city with twenty dollars hanging out of their purse if they _didn't_ want someone to steal it? It was just common sense. This was what she meant by "people who deserved it."

Alice waited until the woman had crossed the street and clacked a few feet down the sidewalk, and then headed after her. Halfway down the block, she tripped elaborately, bumped into the woman, and grabbed the bill inconspicuously.

"So sorry," she said, flashing her best smile at the woman's glare, then ducked around a corner and ran across another street. Alice stopped by a newspaper stand and pushed the money deep down into her bag before carefully zipping it. She wasn't going to make the same mistake.

After shouldering the bag again, she glanced down at the newspaper stand. October 28, 2067 the date read in small letters at the top of a faded paper. Alice grinned and shook her head. What a rip-off. The paper was more than a year old. She turned and headed down the street to find someone else with twenty dollars in plain sight.


End file.
